


handle me?

by oomigiris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Car Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, M/M, med student sakusa kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 07:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30119310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oomigiris/pseuds/oomigiris
Summary: Sakusa sure appears to be the type to just sleep with anyone he can but on the contrary, he gives importance to his ideals. First, patience. Second, obedience. Third, wants it more than him.Atsumu hisses, “Oh, come on, Omi! I will never beg for it, you know that. Why don’t we just do it, for fuck’s sake, we both want it!"“No, we don’t,” he replies.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 24





	handle me?

**Author's Note:**

> hey omg pls don't judge me this is my first time writing an nsfw fic, and i dedicate it to anne HEHE i am shaking as i type OMG OMG ok that's all thank u

  
  


Words have always been Atsumu’s forte, a true player of sweet talking and all sorts — sugarcoating, honey-dipping, cherry-like tongue, he hushes just beside Sakusa, breath travels across the ever prominent jaw he so wanted to claim. 

“Hey, baby, need some heating tonight?” His face stern, promptly making the tall figure raise a brow, annoyed. “Try harder, Miya.” Says Kiyoomi before retreating the scene. 

_And then there’s Sakusa_ , deemed better than it, which the other would willingly drop everything to see him play. It’s a sinful sport, crossing a line from casually asking who’s assigned for dishwashing to tongue-clashing and occasional deep-throating — they’re roommates. Nothing more. Sakusa sure appears to be the type to just sleep with anyone he can but on the contrary, he gives importance to his ideals. First, patience. Second, obedience. Third, wants it _more_ than him. 

Atsumu hisses, “Oh, come on, Omi! I will never beg for it, you know that. Why don’t we just do it, for fuck’s sake, we both want it!” 

Sakusa halts, “No, we don’t,” he replies, stressing every word to prove his point. The other mutters a curse under his breath, causing Kiyoomi to crane his head. “Aw, do you give up now, Miya? You really can’t say _please_?” He taunts. 

“Whatever, Omi, I’ll just go find someone available tonight. You’re fucking annoying.” Atsumu scowls, scooting over the shoe rack just as he grabs his hoodie and his car keys. Sakusa lets out a chuckle, mocking Atsumu’s long-term frustration. 

“I’m leaving, asshole. Lock the door.” Atsumu swiftly opens the door, marching outside their shared apartment. “Alright, text me if you’re coming home tonight, you thirsty fuck!” 

The two have been roommates since college, until now that they finally have their own post-graduate responsibilities to conform to; Sakusa with med school, and Atsumu with his volleyball career. At 24, Atsumu acts rather childish, but the other has never pointed it out. He likes seeing Atsumu frustrated, trying to mask the inner child in him by acting mature, Sakusa finds himself stifling a laugh whenever. It’s alright, he thinks, handling the aftermath is where Sakusa’s best at, anyway.

_Like tonight._

“Atsumu,” 

His brows furrowed at the sight, confused as to why Kiyoomi is following him suit in the parking lot when he clearly said he’s leaving tonight. “What are you doing here?” 

Sakusa shrugs. “It’s late, you won’t find anyone just anywhere,” he states, Atsumu scoffs in annoyance. “What is it to you anyway? Go back inside and study, whatever you’re fucking up to. I’m lea—” 

There it is. _The sinful sport._

"Words just can’t seem to leave your fucking mouth shut, huh?” 

A beat of silence, and the sound of a car being unlocked. “Hop in, Miya.” Atsumu only stares, but he gets inside anyway. When he finally realized what the other was up to, he clicked his tongue. _Damn, I got played again._ He thinks.

“I hate you so much, Omi.” Tsumu mumbles, taking a mental note to pay back what the other has caused him. 

Silence filled the car and it made Atsumu impatient. He cocks his head to the side, almost ready to scowl, until Sakusa chose to break it — and as a matter of fact, he, too, felt the brief crashing of whatever thin layer of sanity he had when Sakusa whispers against his neck. 

“You look troubled. Do you need _me_ to handle you tonight?” 

_Kiyoomi, you’re really fucking annoying._

Atsumu swiftly reclines the driver’s seat, shoving the other’s chest, forcing him to lay on his back. “This is how you wanna play, huh,” He swipes his tongue along Kiyoomi’s lower lip, his breath leaving trailing touches against his cheek. “You want me to beg for it so much?” He continues, his hand finding its way inside Sakusa’s white uniform, the other fumbling through the buttons. “Say, Sakusa, how much of a player do you think you are?” He tuts, his eyes grim and his glares fixated on the others lips. Sakusa whimpers.

“Omi,” he breathes against the crook of his neck. “Do you need _me_ to handle you tonight?” He knows damn well Sakusa’s weak spot is his neck, _he should_ , after years of settling with just make outs. 

For a moment there, Sakusa shivers from his head to his feet. His breath hitched, internally cursing himself for being the one who’s wanting it _more_. He swallows the lump in his throat, fighting the urge to forfeit. 

“Or, you know, you can just wait until I’m willing to beg.” Atsumu adds, fingers vexatious against Kiyoomi’s waist. 

At that, he feels Atsumu kiss the side of his jaw, down to his shoulder, until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Atsumu, I fucking hate you.” He remarks, heaving a sigh in defeat. The other only hums, still focused on his agenda. “Do it,” says Sakusa, waving his loss. 

“Beg for me, then.” He says as he finally removes the other’s white polo, albeit not being very gentle about it. 

Kiyoomi’s lips parted, giving in by the second. “Please.”

“Beg for my name like a fucking gospel, Omi,”

His hands stilled on Sakusa’s waist, his touch taking over every bit of his wit, he cries for his name. “Fuck me, Atsumu.” 

“Good boy,” he replies, his side lips rising as per his spunky attitude; satisfied with his dominance. 

Kiyoomi whimpers, the other’s fingers movement against his skin smolders and at the same time makes him shiver with the pleasure it brings. _When did he become much of a better player than I am? Bullshit._

One second, Atsumu almost — _almost_ loses his mind from his tactics, yet tonight, he’s the one succumbing to every movement like a fucking puppet. 

“Ah, fuck,” he groans when Atsumu’s hands dip down his thigh, palming his now _very_ proud member. The other didn’t stop there, he never misses a chance to jeer, “You like me this much yet you never begged? Cute.” He grabs, and in a split second, he strokes the hardened shaft, leaving the other asking for more. 

“Say it again,” the devil demands against his ear. 

“Fuck me, please.” 

Pleased, he dives into the other’s lips, claiming his entrance without so much of an invitation inside, seeking every corner with his tongue. He whispers things as he swiftly hoists himself up to flip Sakusa, who, at the moment, couldn’t care less about his conditions. Right now, he wants to be fucked. He _needs_ to be fucked.

Atsumu positioned himself, promptly burying his fingers inside Sakusa. This is a sinful sport, alright, but it’s Sakusa he gets to play. _Totally worth it._

"Shit, Atsumu,” Sakusa moans, urging him for more. “Please!” 

“You’re beautiful, damn,” Atsumu remarks, slowly pacing himself inside. He angles himself, finding the sweet spot he so wanted to hit. 

“Oh, god, Atsumu, fuck!” He squirms when Atsumu shifts the pace, rocking his inside just like how he needed him to. Sakusa comes, panting and muttering his gospel-like moans. 

_There it is._ Atsumu smirks.

He dives into Kiyoomi’s nape, just as he whispers, “Your turn to handle, babe.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
